"How...," but he stops himself from asking. He'd really like to dismiss the idea that something that simple breaks curses, but the proof is walking next to him and it does nothing for his souring mood. Should it surprise him that atoning amounts to brainwashing to these people? Maybe all he needs to do is get up on a soapbox and explain that human sacrifice is bullshit.

Thinking about actually trying that is already giving him a headache. Allison might have a better shot at convincing the masses, but she's probably not in the mood to be doing him favors. He scowls and keeps on walking with his hands in his pockets, grumbling about idiotic curses and dumb luck as he goes.

He absolutely is not pouting like a child, this is a very mature old-man scowl. Never mind that he feels like an invalid when it comes to solving magic problems. Between the atonement, the mirror still wedged in him, and the memory loss that he's sure happened because of magic... he's not trending in a good direction.

So he should be asking for help from someone who figured it out already. At least she could take care of the 'easy' one, but the last time she suggested something she thought he should teach self-defense and that's. Still horrible.

"...My brother is going blind," he says instead, locking his eyes on her, because he has his priorities. Hence hiding them away where they're safe from cults and any insane forays into the woods. "And my sister still has marks on her. They'd probably be open to suggestions."

Her sincerity isn't something he's used to, and he doesn't know what to do with it at first. He's showing trust even asking for their sake, but Hermione has been unusually reliable in the time that he's known her. She has no reason to hurt his family. He might have even said 'thank you' if she hadn't twisted the subject back to him, so all she ends up with is a nod and more silence.

His isn't visible on his face, but he's fairly sure anyone familiar with these curses would be able to spot it on him. He debates for a moment, then slowly takes out one of his hands to show what he was hiding. As he suspected, the fresh bandages he put on just a couple of hours ago are already saturated with red, and he regards it with a frown before slipping it back in his pocket.

"Things have started to crumble when I touch them." He hasn't talked about that with anyone, but he's... worried, and it just comes out. If it gets much worse, it'll be harder to do what he needs to do. "It's a problem. I came along because I thought I might be able to fix it."

After showing his hand, he makes an effort to seem less affected. The cuts are easy enough to ignore, so he might have kept on doing it until he cured his siblings. This new affliction has more potential of getting in the way of that, so he's had to shift his priorities slightly.

He looks up at her briefly at her question — he didn't expect her to remember the details of his curse. Now that he's broached the subject, he might as well commit.

"His neighbors and son," he adds with another nod. Those details would seem unimportant, but it feels like he was missing something with what he tried before. Namely going after the families who would sacrifice their children. Maybe that wasn't public enough.

His gaze flicks ahead of them, and he's painfully earnest when he shares his new plan. Like he's honestly asking for her opinion. "Stopping the sacrifices should do it, don't you think?"

Five tenses the moment she grabs his sleeve, but allows it as a testament to how desperate he's getting. It's true that he doesn't have a great backup plan if this one doesn't work. And while it takes him a while to understand what she's getting at, once she's finished he's... impressed? Theoretically that would tie together sacrifices and the harvests.

"Steal it and give it to the farmers." The ramifications would probably be swift, but he's a few cursed months beyond caring. He won't bring them up to her either. "That's not bad. All we'd need to do is find out where they keep it."

He's even using that 'we' word, like he's considering roping her in. Honestly, he's not sure if he can carry anything without it falling apart in his hands. So while he could easily teleport inside wherever they have it locked down, he'd need someone to be the mule. It doesn't seem like it would take any amount of convincing, since it was her idea.

"...Have you been thinking about that for a while?" She came up with it a little too fast. He refuses to dwell on not asking her sooner, but he has several curses to blame on not being completely on the ball. His pride can take a hit if it ends up working.

That isn't exactly what he asked, but he doesn't correct her. It's very possible he's getting ahead of himself, and it's only when she repeats it to him that he stops to marvel at the concept. He asked for help and got a reasonable suggestion in return. Or is he just so exhausted, and maybe anemic from all the blood loss, that any suggestion sounds reasonable? He doesn't know how he feels about it in either case.

"Huh." The idea seems solid, if completely arbitrary in comparison to the way she cured her curse. It also seems oddly like she'd been dwelling on this since he first told her the story. Unless she's using it an excuse to get back at Sairen for some reason. "How many have you solved?"

He gives her a flatly unimpressed look when she counts to one, but it softens after a moment. Nobody needs to remind him that is one more than he has. Nothing has been going right. Now his siblings aren't happy with him, for whatever reason, but worse than that they've seemed more worried about him than their own safety.

Which is completely ass-backwards. If he solves this, maybe he can prove that he's capable of fixing his own messes and get them back on track.

"Fair enough," he finally says like this isn't a huge deal and he's been handling it fine. Another time and he'd scrutinize Hermione's motives, but for once he thinks it might just be that she enjoys solving magic problems. "What the hell? After we're done here, we'll run and steal some fertilizer."

He tries not to seem visibly uncomfortable that he's agreeing to go along with her plan, but he still frowns when she seems pleased with herself. It's just that it's been a long year, and he's tired of getting beaten down by things that are constantly out of his control. Something has to give.

Trusting her is really a last resort. Later he can deconstruct the logic behind magic so he doesn't need to rely on anyone, but for now this what he's got.

"I figured." She's joking, but she's also the first he's heard of that solved her curse. Atonement is only one of his magic ailments, so it bears asking. "Is that how it works back home? How you break them."

That doesn't sound promising for using the same principle to help with his other problems, but he didn't really expect it to. — Would the mirrors be considered dark magic? There are so many different types, it's a wonder why he has such a hard time getting anywhere.

"And some end because you solve some completely arbitrary riddle." He's tired of playing games with them just to get to be an honorary member of their cult. Really wishes he'd known what he was looking for back at the libraries in Taravast. "So you've never cursed anyone?"

He does remember her threatening to hex him when he was taking her potions and storing them for safe-keeping. Which she didn't really explain then. If he knew, it might have been a more effective deterrent. He still doesn't get what got her so upset in the first place.

"You've experienced others?" That gets a raised eyebrow. He isn't normally one to talk this much, but it's a long walk. Usually he's offended someone by this point in the conversation. A personal best with no one around to witness it.

The question was relatively benign when he asked it, even if curses are clearly more prevalent in the world Hermione comes from. He turns to watch her as he listens, not expecting her to open up about the experience, or to feel the subtle twinge of anguish hit him in the way it does even before she tells him that she'd been tortured. As young and well-adjusted as she is, he assumed that what she experienced here is worse than anything she saw back home. Apparently that's one thing he underestimated.

His expression remains passive when she finishes and continues walking. There's other things he'd like to know, including details of how and what she did that would have prompted someone to do that to her. How old she was at the time. But he's familiar with those justifications. Five has done too many unspeakable things, and his former employer had an entire subsection of their handbook on effective means of torture, so anything he says might seen disingenuous.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, unprompted and out of nowhere. Five has no moral code to stand by, but he doesn't necessarily like that about himself. It's a wonder he has any humanity left in him to be able to relate. "...You're young. You probably could have gone a few more years without knowing what's out there."

Five considers her in silence, and takes in exactly what she means. Back in his youth, the Umbrella Academy was a novelty. They weren't magic, but their powers weren't common, and that made them virtual celebrities. It's hard for him to imagine what it would be like to have grown up as the only one in his family with gifts, and presumably sent to some school of wizards.

Though he did see prejudice around magic, back in Taravast. Looking like he does, it was hard to distinguish that from normal condescension he experiences because of how he looks, but they were fairly explicit in their announcements. Her long history with it makes sense with some of her actions. Why she's so eager to help him with his curse.

He doesn't say that she's only scratched the surface of the worst that's out there. Although in her defense, she is talking to one of them.

It'd been worth it; what he became. He wouldn't change what he had to do to get back to his family. A part of him wishes he could return to being the person he was, that his siblings remember, for their sake. But time travel can only do so much.

He clears his throat, unaware of how long he'd been lost in his own thoughts. His gaze gets less distant and he lifts his head.

"I suppose nothing is impossible." He's being unusually kind to not immediately shut down her youthful determination. It's not often people confide in him, so she deserves some reward for her honesty. "You'd be amazed what one person can change."